August 10, 2008
We are at 8,500 feet above sea level and my heart is doing fine. There are over 1 million people in Arequipa, Peru but there must be twice as many taxi drivers ("Two cabs for every guy. . .") and they drive these little PRS cars (pregnant roller skates). I´ve literally had to dodge several by lifting my foot.

We went to a bull fight this afternoon up in the mountains, east of town. Only in Peru when bulls fight, they fight each other. El Toro vs. El Toro! No puny humans using shivs or cheating methods. And it is so cool. Two big, studly bulls come into the arena from opposite corners, snorting and pawing the ground. They smell each other first and it is so typically male. First they circle each other and one usually goes passive. Eight out of ten do not want to fight (the crowd whistles, which in Peru is a boo), they just want to act like they want to fight. But when you get that one, the one that truly wants to fight, lookout! It is amazing to watch. I´ve got it on video and will post it when I get home.

It seems to me, there is nothing males like to do more than watch other males fight. Whether it´s boxing, ultimate fighting or hockey, men really enjoy a good fight, as long as the blood is on someone else. Personally, I resemble that remark. My son, T. Charles and I really enjoyed the big balls in cowtown parade and all of its man-ifistations. Kathy just rolled her eyes at the typical male behavior. Ha.

Kathy and I flew out of Sky Harbor a week ago, on Monday night. Flew to LAX (Los Angeles) on USAir arriving at 11 at night. Boarded a TACA airplane at 1:30 in the morning and flew directly to San Salvador, landing at 7:30. We were on the beach by nine, drinking cafe con leches and Cinquesto beers, along with mixto fish dishes. Really fine. Our driver, Freddie (actual name Walfredo) drove us to Suchitoto, a leftist pueblo on the edge of a giant lake and we had reservations at a great resort where we dined on great food, walked around town flaunting our wealth and prestige. Not really, but as an norteo americano, that is the fear. Stopped in a leftist bar on the way home. It was full of Che and Fidel posters (and John Lennon!). We laughed at them and taunted them to give three cheers for Bush.

Not really. I may have come damn close to death in the past 90 days, but I´m not that dumb!

Got to Lima, Peru on Thursday night and met Tommy. Deena asked me what I would say to him since I´ve not seen him in over a year and her prediction was correct: "Mi hijo Bastardo!" (My Bastard Son!") I yelled in the crowded terminal as we saw each other. We hugged three times. Once for me. Once for Carole Glenn, and once for Uncle Charles. It was great to see the boy I wanted to kill when he was 16.

He´s grown up a bit, and so has his dad.

Going up to 11,000 feet on Wednesday. A little nervous about it but so far I am digging Peru.